


150. flickering LED screens

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [143]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hackers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8602030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: “You’re kidding me,” Sarah says, the second they step into the apartment. “This is our bloody hacker?”





	

“You’re kidding me,” Sarah says, the second they step into the apartment. “ _This_ is our bloody hacker?”

The room’s a mess, and not in the way movies had taught Sarah it would be – no electronic music blaring, no dark room lit only by lines of scrolling code. It’s just…a mess. There are ripped open frozen meal boxes absolutely everywhere. Piles of clothes and beanbag chairs with the stuffing falling out and a few plants that look desperately over-watered. It’s like an animal’s den. Sarah doesn’t see a single computer anywhere.

“Look, I know,” says Cosima, “but like…desperate times? She’s really good, Sarah, promise. Just, uh…” she rummages in her pocket, offers a Snickers bar. “Give her this.”

“Where’re you gonna be?” Sarah says, voice heavy with skepticism.

“Not in here,” Cosima says, grinning, tossing over her shoulder: “Dude, it _stinks_ ” before she’s out the door. Presumably she’s going to go smoke a joint or something while waiting for Sarah to get through this. God, Sarah wishes Cosima wasn’t the best con artist she knew.

(Besides herself.)

(But she’s not the type to brag.)

She makes her way deeper into the den. It’s weirdly silent, except for what sounds like a peppy children’s cartoon playing from tinny speakers somewhere way back. Sarah follows the sound, finds:

A blonde woman who looks like she hasn’t seen a shower or daylight or a fresh-cooked meal in approximately eleven years. She’s lolling on yet another goddamn beanbag chair, frowning at the laptop she’s holding. “Behind you,” she yells in a thickly-accented voice. “Turn _around_ , Dora, please, he is _right there_.”

Sarah clears her throat. The woman’s eyes flick up to her, and then back down to the screen. She sighs. “Sit,” she says. “Wait. There are Swipers to be caught, and then we will talk about your job.”

“Brought chocolate,” Sarah says.

“Good,” says the stranger, with perfect confidence. “Give it.”

Sarah does. There’s a crinkling of wrapper that’s barely audible under “Behind you, _behind you_ , _no_ swiping Swiper, _kakashka_.” And then the entire Snickers bar vanishes in one big gulp.

Sarah sits awkwardly on the floor – there’s no space on the beanbag – and stews silently in her own irritation for the next four minutes (“Yes! No. The _green_ one, Dora”) while she watches her companion. She’s twitchy enough to be a hacker. Sarah was expecting – she doesn’t know, big earphones or a leather jacket or cool sunglasses or tattoos. The only identifying features their hacker has are the shitty blonde perm and the chocolate smeared around her mouth.

Cheery music plays. The laptop snaps shut.

“So!” says the hacker. She struggles and somehow manages to reach an upright position in the beanbag. “Sarah Manning. You want me to get you through the cameras, and the passcodes, and the locks, and into the money.” Her head tilts to the side, something either too animal or too machine to be comforting. “Yes?”

“Uh,” Sarah says. “Yeah?”

“Okay,” says—

“Hold on,” Sarah says. “I don’t even – _know_ you. What’s your name? Who are you? How’re you—”

“Helena,” says the hacker, and nothing else. She smiles in a pained sort of way that clearly says _we can be done now, right?_

“…and?”

“Yes.”

“How d’you know Cosima?”

“We had adventures,” Helena says breezily. “Most fun in long time. Cosima stole a motorcycle, and we shot many criminals while jumping over a bridge. Bang! In the hearts. Like movie. Very nice. We are friends now. Sometimes she comes and waters my plants.” She stops, seemingly content with what seems like an _obvious_ lie.

“So!” she says. “The money. What is the money you are giving to me.”

“Seven percent,” says Sarah, and Helena lets out the world’s most incredulous scoff.

“Please,” she says. “I am not tiny baby with tiny baby needs. Fifteen.”

“You serious?” Sarah says. “None of us are gettin’ fifteen. You get seven.”

Helena collapses dramatically in the beanbag chair. “Nine,” she says.

“No way.”

“ _Nine_ ,” Helena says, “or I send Cosima those bad pictures of you from high school.”

Sarah stares at her. “You got my _high school pictures?_ ” she says.

“Yes,” Helena says, looking at her upside-down. “Your…” she gestures to her eyes, mimicking eyeliner, “is much better now.”

Sarah winces. She bites her lip. She considers. Finally she rolls her eyes, sighs, and says: “Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed! :)


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